


Like A Prayer

by barricadebastard



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Albino Enjolras, Fluff, M/M, all your faves are poc, in this case Enjolras is black and Grantaire indian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebastard/pseuds/barricadebastard
Summary: Enjolras hates working at the corner store but he doesn't mind a certain curly haired customer with a partiality for shitty wine.





	Like A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "I'm only here to establish an alibi."

Grantaire was in love with a man he had never spoken to. It was pathetic, honestly, but every aspect of his life was at least moderately pathetic these days, so he wasn't too bothered. Besides, what harm could it do to feast his eyes upon the god that swanned into a lecture hall every day, eyes burning bright with a righteous anger that almost made Grantaire want to believe? It didn't hurt to revere the sound of fury colouring the man's word as he argued with the professor.

When Grantaire found out his Apollo’s name, he had repeated it again and again, like a prayer.

“Enjolras. Enjolras. Enjolras."

* * *

 

Enjolras knew that, to many, he didn't seem quite human. He hated it, hated the way they watched him with reverence burning holes into his skin, hated being seen as better. He shied away from those who commented too often on his looks and turned his face away from those whose gaze lingered for a few seconds too long.

It was worse at the corner store he worked the night shift at. All types of people walking through the door. Some would try to get his number, others would make well-meaning but ultimately offensive comments about how his albinism did little to diminish his looks. Some drunk people would get a little too handsy, trying to touch the pretty blonde cashier over the counter. All this made for a pretty awful experience at his job.

Still, it paid.

One night, Enjolras was standing at the cashier, flicking through his notes for tomorrow’s lecture. The customary tinkle of a bell signified someone's entrance and Enjolras looked up. A scruffily handsome guy walked in, his cheeks tinted pink from either the cold or alcohol.

“Hi, welcome to Ava News, let me know if you need anything,” Enjolras rehearsed politely before returning to his notes. He expected the man to search for whatever he had entered the store for, but instead Enjolras could see him staring out of the corner of his eye. He suppressed a sigh. He really hope the man didn't try picking him up.

“Enjolras, right?” the man said, and Enjolras finally looked up again with genuine interest.

“Yes. Have we met?”

The other man grinned, lopsided and somehow a little endearing. “We have that Comparative European Politics lecture together. I’m Grantaire.”

Enjolras felt a little embarrassed for not recognising a student who apparently saw him on a regular basis, but he pushed that thought down. He couldn't be expected to memorise the faces of every single person in his lectures. Still, he knew his cheeks must have been tinged pink. “Ah, right.”

There didn't seem to be much else to say, but Grantaire was still watching him with an indecipherable look that made Enjolras feel a little uncomfortable. It was like it was impossible to read him, and Enjolras didn't like not knowing what was going on in the man's head.

“So,” Enjolras said finally, when Grantaire continued to watch him with that strange quirk to his lips. “Can I help you with anything?”

Grantaire's grin widened. “A bottle of your cheapest, please.”

Enjolras reached to the counter, pulling out a shitty bottle that didn't even deserve the title of wine. Putting it on the counter, he told Grantaire the price. Because the man seemed to revel in being difficult, he scattered a large amount of change on the counter, grinning toothily when Enjolras shot him a look.

“Sorry, I don't have any change,” Grantaire grinned.

“It's fine,” Enjolras said, though it wasn't, not really, he hated customers with ridiculous amounts of change. “I wouldn't be a cashier if I couldn't handle simple math.”

Grantaire laughed loudly, his head tilting back. The line of his throat was exposed and his Adam's apple jutted out. Enjolras quickly averted his gaze to the coins in his hand. “You're on your own on that one, mate. I killed it at hard as shit algebra equations and shit in school but I still had to count on my fingers for simple math.”

“How can you be good at equations but not do simple math?” Enjolras asked, baffled. Maths had always been his weak spot at high school, with algebra simply not making any sense to him. The idea that someone could do algebra but not simple maths seemed bizarre.

Grantaire shrugged, still grinning. “Man, I don't know. I had to count on my fingers during the exams and I still don't know all of my multiplication tables to this day. I got an A though.”

“But that's,” Enjolras spluttered, “that's just fucking impossible.”

Grantaire laughed again. “If you say so. Mind if I get my shitty wine?”

Oh. The bottle had been completely forgotten in Enjolras outrage over Grantaire's math skills. Flushing slightly, he hurriedly bagged the wine and handed it to Grantaire, who nodded in thanks.

That should have been it, but Grantaire was still standing there.

“Can I help you with anything else?” he asked finally, when Grantaire remained at the counter, watching Enjolras intently with a curious smirk dancing at his lips.

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” Enjolras asked bluntly.

“I'm only here to establish an alibi.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, but his lips twitched into a small smile before he could stop himself. “Well, that isn't ominous at all.”

“Of course not,” Grantaire said with mock offense, hand on his chest as he looked outraged that Enjolras would suggest such a thing. “Me? Ominous? I am nothing but benevolent, good sir! You wound me.”

Enjolras couldn't help laughing at the man's theatrics. Normally, such a customer would have made Enjolras roll his eyes and reply with monosyllabic answers, but something about Grantaire made him want to humour the man. The light in his eyes seemed to dare Enjolras to come closer and it was so fascinating that he found himself, for the first time in a long while, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Enjolras deliberated silently for a moment. He didn't normally get involved with customers, preferring to remain politely distant as he served them, but Grantaire's grin made him want to act out.

“This is… probably a long shot,” Enjolras said slowly, “But would you like to get coffee with me sometime this week?”

Grantaire's smile dimmed slightly, confusing colouring his features instead. “You mean, like a…”

“Like a date,” Enjolras confirmed. His chest felt a little too tight and his hands were sweaty. He wiped them surreptitiously on his jeans as he waited for Grantaire's answer. He needn't have worried, it turned out, because Grantaire's smile returned brighter than ever.

“I'd love to.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written or posted anything in so long aaaaahh but im back with some enjoltaire fluff!!!
> 
> my tumblr is @barricadebastard


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